Chapter 19 – Daisy
A ll ready for the ball.
“This is how I was meant to spend my golden years. Little lower, Eros.”
I love seeing my grandmother enjoying herself but I have to bury my face in my hands when she’s directing her gorgeous young masseuse to move ‘a little lower.’ He’s practically touching her butt while Mimi’s busy sipping a mimosa through her straw. In addition to the masseuse, Grant has a physical therapist coming to work with her three times a week.
After Grant’s sudden appearance at Shady Acres the other day, I’ve been staying with Mimi at his penthouse. It’s absolutely beautiful but I’m missing everyone at the estate (except Old Vinegar Fish). However, this is precious Potter Lady time and I’m so glad to see her thriving.
She’s given me more than one shrewd glance this week but at least she’s not questioning why I’m spending so much time with her versus my new husband.
The truth is I’m hesitant to return home with Grant after everything that’s been shared, from one outstanding O to him discovering the truth about the girl he calls Goldilocks.
I’m not ashamed of who I am. I’m not ashamed of surviving the best way I could manage. But, for some reason, the thought of Grant looking at me with pity or, worse, disgust makes me feel vulnerable in a way nothing ever has.
Well, almost nothing.
“You ended up on the streets after your mother’s accident?”
I had held back on answering his questions until Mimi was situated that day. It felt surreal, sitting in his penthouse’s elegant rooftop garden and staring at the sparkling waters of the bay in the distance. Such a beautiful location, I could disconnect from the past, pretend I was reciting events from a movie.
“Not at first. The house belonged to my step-father and I stayed there as long as I could.” As long as I could. Until the night my step-father came into my bedroom uninvited. “He didn’t force me. He made me a proposition. Favors in lieu of rent, he called it. When I said no, he told me good luck and get out.”
Grant had stared at me for so long after that admittance I thought he’d turned catatonic. “I’m going to need his name,” he’d finally said with such a dark look it sent shivers down my spine.
He wanted to know where I went after that so I told him – friends’ sofas until I felt my welcome wearing out, sleeping in my car until it got towed and I couldn’t find the title to get it back, pay-by-the-week motels when I had enough cash from day jobs. “There are many forms of homelessness.”
But, in the end, there were nights spent in shelters like Tina’s or between the hedges in ratty tents or…
“I’d crash at work as often as I could get away with.”
“At Golden Gate?”
“Yes. I think Mr. Reynolds knew. I think Callie suspected something. They were always trying to feed me.”
He’d scowled at the water, not meeting my eyes again for several minutes. God, I hated knowing what he must think of me after that. “Why didn’t you stay with your sister?”
“I did… as long as I could.” I did until Jewel’s boyfriend made me the exact same offer my step-father had – sleep with me or hit the streets. “He said he always wanted to have twin sisters in his bed. I chose the streets.”
“I see,” he’d said, so softly, so sadly it made me angry.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me!”
I hated the tears that fell after my shouting. I hated how I’d crumpled like a rag doll in his embrace, trembling and unable to stop the flow. I don’t want Grant to look at me like I’m someone breakable, someone weak, someone… embarrassing.
But, he’s bound to be embarrassed by me. He mentioned the press or Lincoln finding out about Mimi’s horrible living situation. What will Blue-Blooded Billionaire Grant Barclay have to say when the world discovers his art school dropout wife had been living on the streets prior to their marriage? I don’t know. I don’t want to find out.
One thing at a time though. A problem for another day. Tonight, we’ll be seeing each other again. Golden Gate is hosting their annual Christmas charity ball and I’m to play my trophy wife role. It’s a role I fear I’m doomed to fail at and fear the world will see right through me. I don’t even care what they say about me. I worry what Grant will think. When did that come to matter so much to me?
“Your nails are done so I’ll turn you over to Elsa now,” the nail technician says.
I look down at my perfectly manicured fingernails, not a chip or trace of paint in sight. The spa day Efrem had lined up for me has conveniently come to the penthouse. People as rich as Grant don’t even have to descend from their ivory towers to get fully made over.
“What would you prefer for waxing?” the esthetician asks me.
“I’ve never had my legs waxed. Whatever you typically do.”
“Yes but I meant how do you prefer your bikini area?” I stare at her blankly for several beats and try to pretend with all my might that my grandmother and her hot masseuse aren’t six feet away. “Or what does your husband prefer?”
I can feel the flush running all over my body. I have no idea what my husband prefers but now I can’t stop thinking about that night in the bathtub and the boldness I felt then. How he’d stared hungrily at me through the phone, those dark brown eyes smoldering as he drank in every inch. How he’d talked me through the most amazing orgasm with his deep, husky voice. How much I wanted it and more with him.
But, I could see in his eyes the other day when I told him the whole tragic tale of Little Orphan Daisy that it’s not going to happen now. Grant may be a red-blooded man under his gentlemanly manners but I’d bet the five million dollars he’s planning to give me upon our divorce that he’d rather cut off his own hand than feel like he’s forced me into a sexual relationship.
“Just leave her a landing strip, Elsa. I’m sure her handsome hubby can manage but it never hurts to point men in the right direction,” Mimi says, cackling.
Leave it to Mimi to lift my spirits , I think, snorting back giggles as the rest of the room breaks into startled laughter.
∞∞∞
I am not giggling when the doorbell rings a few hours later. “Grant’s here,” Mimi calls through the bedroom door.
“I’m coming! Eventually,” I mutter. I’m tender as hell. Down there. Yeah, I’ve suffered worse but how am I supposed to elegantly glide around a ballroom after Elsa, the sadist ripped most of my short-n-curlies away with so little disregard for my squeals of discomfort? I want to soak in a tub full of ice water.
Opening the bedroom door though, I take a moment to appreciate a very fine sight, my husband in black-tie. Sharp, crisp, tailored, not a hair out of place, he’s too beautiful, too perfect for me, like the glory of the sunset I’ll never fully capture with any tools an artist possesses.
I feel a flutter in my chest when I see the flowers he’s offering to Mimi, the most beautiful bouquet of daisies imaginable. With their heads close together, deep in discussion about something, they don’t notice me. Frowning, I step forward, one painful inch at a time. “Hi.”
Mimi’s grin could rival the morning sunshine and summons my own. But, it’s my husband’s reaction I’m most anxious for. Midway through his turn, he freezes, his gaze dropping down my frame and raking over every bit of the sexy, silk evening gown he paid for.
When his inspection reaches my feet, I see his lips twitch. “No sneakers?” he asks softly and I can’t determine if there’s any censure or simply amusement in the question.
“I’d be more comfortable in them.”
“Without a doubt.” Slowly, his eyes wander back up from my heels until they’re resting on my face. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, wife.”
Heat explodes beneath my cheeks as Mimi beams all the brighter. I feel as naked as I was in the tub that night when he’s looking at me this way. Why? We’re the most chaste married couple I can imagine.
“Shall we go?” I ask a bit shakily, stiffly moving to collect my wrap.
In a heartbeat, Grant is by my side, plucking it from my grasp. “Permit me,” he rasps, his breath tickling the back of my neck as he moves with such grace to drape the fine fabric around my shoulders.
“Guess there’s no need for me to wait up,” Mimi says, cheekily.
I open my mouth to reply but Grant beats me to it. “No need for that, Mimi. Mrs. Barclay will be coming home with me tonight.”
My eyes widen and my breath grows short. “You want to take me home with you tonight?”
He nods, slipping his arm around my waist and tugging me toward the private elevator that will take us down to the garage.
“Are you alright?” he asks as the silver doors close.
I’m almost grateful that he sounds more like the Grant I know, always to the point. Was that a show for Mimi? Is he getting in character for the ball?
“Yes.” Just confused and lonely.
“You were moving awkwardly a moment ago.”
“I’m sorry my ballet instructor wasn’t as successful in my training as your dancing master must’ve been with you.”
He scowls at me in the reflection of the elevator’s mirrored walls. “I meant, it seemed you were in pain.”
“Oh.” Again, that explosion of warmth under my skin and I bow my head. “I’ve never been plucked and preened so much in my life as I was earlier. I’m a bit sore.” He raises an eyebrow and I jerk my chin downward. “Sore. Down there… from the waxing,” I finish in a whisper.
“Christ,” he chokes out, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“It’s not funny!”
He’s still laughing, the ass, as he makes his apologies. “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. You needn’t suffer on my account, Daisy. You’re beautiful to me either way.”
Whatever words were forming in my throat scattered with his compliment. His phone rings the next second and he answers with a snarl as the elevator doors slide open.
“Daisy, hello,” I hear a different male voice saying as I’m staring dumbstruck at my husband on his call.
Snapping out of my daze, I step out of the elevator. “Anders, hi.”
The driver is beaming at me as cheerfully as Mimi was and once more I can’t help smiling back. I’ve not seen him in days now. Grant hired another driver to take Mimi around the city so he’s been driving me around as well. Paul is nice but not chatty like Anders. He’s a powerfully built man and Mimi mentioned he’d been a Marine. I don’t think I could dodge him if I was still sneaking off to places in the city alone.
“I’ve been worried about you,” Anders murmurs, stepping closer.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry for running off on you that morning.”
“I wish you’d shared the reason why with me. I’m not a billionaire but I’d do anything to help you.”
“I… I’m sure you would,” I reply but, in all honesty, his murmured words and physical closeness make me uneasy.
“You’d better not try getting away from me again.” His tone is playful and paired with a wink but he’s looking me over like a prized calf at auction when he adds, “You’re so lovely, Daisy.”
I swallow hard, not sure what to make of that tone or the way his eyes seem to be undressing me. What’s gotten into Anders? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“She will not be getting away from you again if you like being employed,” Grant says, sharply from behind me. Turning, I see my husband boring a hole through the driver’s skull with his eyes. Dear me, this is awkward.
I quickly take Grant’s arm, wanting him to escort me to the waiting car and hoping to leave this strange tension behind.